The Jobs at Mann Co Industry -Cancelled-
by ThePizzaLovingTurtle
Summary: Scout, Soldier, Pyro, Demoman, Heavy, Engineer, Sniper, Medic, and Spy, mercenaries under the special contracts and pay of Mann Co. Industries, are here to sell products and get in fights. They will be here to fight in wars, battles, even small scuffles, day after day, even if it kills them, multiple times! Contents of the unbox may include strong language, gun skins, and hats.
1. Sniper's G'Morning

Disclaimer: I do not own the official rights to the game, TF2. But I do own the game, now free on Steam! Get it today! (not an advertisement trust me) Also, this chapter was written before the Invasion Update, so the 2fort you'll be thinking of is the classic one, of course.

 **Team Fortress 2: The Jobs at Mann Co. Industry**

 **The Sniper and His Morning Routine**

Hello there good sir or madam! Welcome to one of the first Mann Co. tours of the century! Normally we aren't allowed to do this, but I was given the green light by the head Administrator to give you an exclusive look at what we do here at Mann Co. Industries, and finally a reason to get you to stop complaining about the ludicrous land taxes. If you still complain afterwards, you'll have to take it up with Mr. Hale himself, and I very much doubt you'd like to do that. So, without further ado, let me show you around, meet some of the employees we've come to know and love!

* * *

Sniper groaned softly, pushing the raggedy fabric he called a blanket. He was used to being woken up by the ever constant ringing of his alarm clock to remind him he was late for his profession, used to Scout walking by to annoy or prank him, and he was especially used to wild animals trying to sneak into his van to steal leftovers. He didn't expect to be woken up by a voice in his head.

Hey Sniper.

Sniper lifted himself up out of his bed, which just so happened. situated just above his dining room. He reached for his sunglasses, only to remember that he left them downstairs by the sink. He grumbled, instead picking up a large, clean, shiny knife. Waving it around, he groggily looked around for the source of the voice.

"...Who's there? I'll bash the blood out of your sorry little head if you don't leave now." Sniper groggily threatened, hardly menacing.

Calm down Sniper. Just a voice asking you to wake up. You can do that, right?

Sniper blinked, moving the sheets to his bed to the side. Ignoring his sleepiness, he managed to climb down the ladder from his bed, making sure that he wouldn't fall off and crack his skull like a fool, and took a step down onto the floor, taking in the normal sights and sounds of the van he called home. It was very small, everything was condensed into one area. A sink with a tiny mirror lied directly nearby a stove to the left side of the van, a small table for eating at the other side as well as a box for storage. The very small room was very messy as well, empty jars littering the floor and any other area that they could be placed. A half eaten steak of unknown origin laid on the table, a pair of sunglasses and an submachine gun placed carelessly next to it. Sniper walked over to the table, reaching for the SMG and pair of glasses, when a knocking sound came from the outside of the van. He picked up the submachine gun and stowed away his Kukri knife, and cautiously opened the door, automatic weapon handy. He saw nothing, but a small letter attached to the ladder leading up to his van's roof. He grabbed the letter, and retreated slowly inside of his van, closing the door. Opening the letter carefully, using his oversized steak cutter, he took out the contents, and read through.

 _Sniper, I got a new mission for you. Meet the team by the RED base specified in the fine print on the back, and we'll fill you in once you get there. This message will blow up in 5 seconds. ...Did I fool you? Probably not, worth a try._

 _-Pauling_

Sniper rolled his eyes at the short message's attempt at humor, and flipped the sheet of paper over. Scanning the print for the location, he could only groan once he finished.

"Better get my camping bag." He mumbled, walking over to his sink's mirror.

* * *

After a few minutes of nothing except changing clothes, Sniper was now standing outside his van wearing a dark-green bandana circling his forehead, with his hair brushed back in a dynamic style. There was a second bandana with a lighter matching color, covering his face and one of his eyes, the sunglasses from before covering the other one. Worn over his vest was what a safari-goer might wear. His hands were covered as well now, two gloves and a watch on the left wrist. He also donned a clean tannish brown pair of pants and shoes. Finally, equipped with him was a bolt-action Sniper Rifle, his SMG, and his kukri strapped to his back. While his head was wrapped in green, the rest of his body was adorned in red clothing, symbolizing his allegiance on the battlefield. Sniper walked towards the driver's seat of his van and hopped in, starting the car, and taking off with a bit of a sputter and a puff of smoke from the engine as well as a trail of dust as he traveled down the road to his job location.

"Always 2fort. I'm a professional. Don't see why I have to stay cooped up in one map like a wallaby at the zoo when I could be off shooting down robots, or slashing at those useless Spies. Gah, waste of potential." Sniper rambled to no one in particular.

A loud thump was heard, as well as air hissing out at an alarming rate. Sniper lowered his head in annoyance, gritting his teeth.

"And the second bloody time I've had to change a tire! Road's more bodgy than a field of needles." Sniper shook his head, and left his van to replace the tire.

* * *

Sniper had finally arrived at his destination, parking his van in the middle of an old dusty field, tumbleweeds bouncing by. Sniper shut off the engine and opened the door of the van, jumping out onto the ground. The area he parked in was behind a rustic red painted wood building, appearing aged despite the color. A twin, blue painted industrial building sat directly across from it, both buildings connected by bridge which was built directly over a pool of water. Sniper reached for a door handle hidden underneath the building's thick paint, forcing it open, and walked into the building into a much more clean room, filled with glass panes and machines with multiple lights and knobs. Upon entering, Sniper was greeted with a blast of air directed at his face.

"G'morning Pyro." He said blinking, readjusting his glasses.

A person covered in a bodysuit laid down the weapon, it had used to greet Sniper, waving his hand in a friendly manner. This person oddly wore a ski hood and a scarf painted orange over its face, covering the identity of the person entirely. It also had on a knit fleece sweater with light green accents, and a weird blob thing sitting on his head that also carried the overall red aesthetic of the people and building, the blob's eyes going to the Sniper, and lighting up.

"Morning to you too Lizard." Sniper waved tiredly. Lizard, as the blob is now named, hopped up and down slightly, glad to see the marksman. "So, any clue on what our job is today?"

"Hmm… No, mmph mmm mmph." Pyro shrugged, the only clearly discernible word said being "No".

Sniper smirked. "Right, thanks anyways."

Suddenly, speakers hung around the base crackled, a rather authoritative voice clearing her throat on the other end.

"Gentlemen... And Pyro." The speakers blared.

Pyro mumbled through the ski hood in excitement.

"Your mission today is to capture the enemy's secret briefcase, or intelligence as we all are well informed, while ensuring that no harm comes to our own briefcase."

Sniper and Pyro turned to a desk, where a floating and rotating red colored briefcase was suspended halfway between the desk and the air.

"Still don't get how this box floats like a bloomin' jellyfish." Sniper sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"You have approximately eight minutes to work, starting now. More teammates and enemy mercenaries will join you soon, so stay sharp. Good luck." The voice cut off, and there was silence other than the beeping caused by the various machines in the room.

Sniper turned to Pyro, who nodded, obviously used to this introduction. Pyro picked up his flamethrower weapon, running outside. Sniper ran out the room as well, picking his Sniper Rifle from off his back, and ascending up a staircase leading outside. A loud siren was heard sounding off, and rushed footsteps crowded Sniper's hearing as he jogged outside, other employees getting to work.

" _Another day, another bloody useless crate."_ Sniper thought as he arrived at his battle station, his Sniper Rifle at the ready.

He crouched down and stared hard into the scope of the rifle, scanning the area for any potential unwanted visitors, keeping his breathing quiet, and his finger patiently waiting on the trigger.

"...This is gonna take longer than I thought." Sniper deadpanned, awaiting an unfortunate bloke to come barreling in.

* * *

AN: I dunno, I had an idea for TF2 classes garbed in my choice cosmetics going through their jobs and lives one day and decided, "You know what? I'll go and type a story, why not?" Of course, like one of my other stories, I'd like to know if other people like the story before I continue. Thought, I might probably continue it if I really like the idea. Anyways, this is ThePizzaLovingTurtle, off to buy an Invasion Coin!


	2. The Sniper Strats

**Team Fortress 2: The Jobs at Mann Co. Industry**

 **Sniper Strats**

Ladies and gentlemen, I see you have returned to the tour. Yes, get comfortable now, because the action is about to start…

* * *

Peering through the scope, Sniper aimed his sniper carefully. He grumbled, looking to the tower opposite of the one he was sitting in. Nothing. Aimed down at the bridge connecting the two buildings. Nothing again. Back to the modern blue building. Absolutely nothing. Sniper growled in frustration.

" _Where the hell are the other blokes?"_ He thought, scanning the area for hopefully any action.

* * *

"Whoo-wee!" A man garbed in blue, a hard hat placed on his head whooped.

He and other men with appearances similar to him were standing inside the blue building, surrounded by giant turrets periodically rotating and beeping, ready to kill anything that moved. The men in blue sat down on lawn chairs, small umbrellas shading them, and bottles of beer at their side in case they felt a little parched. The sound of fast footsteps was heard, and suddenly stopped when the turrets locked onto an unsuspecting enemy, a speedy young man in a basic red dyed shirt caught in the turrets' unforgiving line of sight.

"Aw crap." He muttered in a Bostonian accent, before he was blasted to bits by the turret guns' rotating barrels, as well as rockets.

"Ah told you not to mess with my Sentry Gun, boy!" A man with a Southern accent called out, other men joining him in a bout of laughter.

* * *

"Ah, what a bunch of camping layabouts, get out here so's I can blast your goggles right off your face!" Sniper exclaimed in frustration.

My, how ironic.

"Great, the boredom's gettin' to me. Nngh, shake it off." Sniper told himself, lightly slapping his forehead.

Sorry, messing with your concentration?

"Yeah, now knock it off before I blow your- My head off." Sniper spat, going back to sniping with the occasional mutter. "...ratbag."

Now, there's no need for that. After all, finding a shot is simple, just go out and get one.

Sniper snorted. "Might as well be telling me to drown myself in the pond down there while I'm at it. I'm not getting blown to bloody chunks like an idiot."

Don't need to. Just stay out of their range, man.

The marksman hesitated, lying his rifle to the side, contemplating the advice the "voice" in his head was giving him. Sniper shook his head, grabbing his rifle and slinging it over his back, replacing it with his SMG. He walked over to the tower's ledge, carefully dropping off of it. Unfortunately, fall damage had another idea.

"Gah!" Sniper exclaimed in pain, landing on his legs funnily.

A health meter invisible to his sight indicated he had taken ten points of damage, not that it mattered much.

Sniper gritted his teeth, stretching his legs out, which eased the soreness only slightly. Although the fall took a small toll on his legs, he managed to shake it off without difficulty. Pressing on, he crossed the wooden bridge, slowing down to a calm walk. He looked around him to make sure he wouldn't be caught in a bad situation, the pressed on. Carefully entering the opposition's building through an open space on the left, he scans the area slowly, making sure that there aren't any threats. He turns around the corner of a wall, but sharply jumps back when he is nearly riddled with bullets. Sentry Guns were set up in the entrances to the enemy's base. Sniper leaned against the wall, formulating on how he would make it past, when reality hit him.

Sniper held a hand to his forehead. _"What the- What am I doing? I can't go against a machine loaded with bullets. I really have gone crazed. Probably should've listened to Dad. Better bail out before things get any worse..."_

On that very line of thought, a teammate getting shot to death dropped the enemy's briefcase in front of him, bullet holes leaking crimson blood staining the ground, as well as the already red uniform he wore.

"Oh, brilliant." Sniper rolled his eyes, replacing his SMG with his Sniper Rifle, sitting back and peering through the scope.

"I got this!" A cheery Southern voice called out, laughter still present in the air.

Another man donned in blue, hardhat at the ready, stooped down by the Intelligence briefcase with a large metal box at the ready, but was shot down by Sniper. The bullet and the body of the newly deceased echoed throughout the base, while Sniper carefully stooped down to pick up the Intelligence. The group of cowboys stopped laughing it up, carefully leaving their lawnchairs and grabbing nearby guns.

Sniper stooped down picked up the Intelligence, which somehow magically fused to his back at the touch of his hand, and looked straight up into the goggles of an angry builder.

"You just messed with the wrong Engineers, son." The Engineer stated menacingly, cocking his Shotgun.

Other Engineers poked their heads out from behind walls, Shotguns and Pistols of the sort aimed at the head assassin. Sniper smiled underneath the bandana wrapped around his face, stood up, and took off quick.

"YAAAAAAAHHHH!" He screamed, loud gunshots of all sorts firing off behind him.

Sniper sprinted out of that deathtrap of a building, battle cries of Engineers sounding out from behind him. While he may have made it outside, his desperate attempts of running away like a coward had him trip and land in the lake beneath the bridge. Clumsy.

"Piss off!" Sniper yelled out as he dived into the water.

Sniper broke the surface of the pond immediately, spitting out water, and swam frantically to a large pipe opposite to the blue building, running once more once he hit solid ground. Still soaking wet, he made his way through the sewers, passing through a room with a floating medical kit and ammo supply. Making his way through the sewer pipe, he ran up two flights of stairs, hastily entering his base. He passed by a few of his teammates, who stopped to question him, but the sounds of shotguns in the background prompted them to leave and defend the base. Sniper didn't care much, still running through the huge red encampment to the Intelligence of his own. He was spurred to speed up when the death cries and victory shouts were heard, not caring who was who. Thinking he was home free, Sniper slowed his pace down, panting slightly. He made his way down another flight of stairs to the comforts of the Intelligence room, but halted dead in his tracks when he noticed a defense of four enemy Engineers, all armed to the teeth with guns.

Sniper scowled. "How the bloody hell did you manage to get here so quickly?!"

"Never doubt an Engie, or his builds."

One of the Engineers threw a metal box on the ground, where a spinning pad with two distinct lights popped out, another Engineer seemingly constructed out of thin air appearing on top of it, spinning a silver pistol.

"Gah, of course NOW you put those Teleporters to use. Just. Perfect." Sniper grimaced.

"Any last words, Outback?" One of them spat.

Sniper's eyes drifted away from the group of Engineers, spotting a certain fire lover descending towards their location.

Sniper smirked. "For being the eggheads y'are, I'm surprised you missed the chance to plant one of your guns here, could've saved you the trouble."

An Engineer chuckled grimly. "Doesn't matter strawbones, we've got you cornered. Say your prayers…"

They all raised their Shotguns, level to Sniper's face, but were interrupted by a searing heat being shot all over them. The Engineers screamed out in pain, each of them getting roasted by Pyro, who had sneaked down. Sniper helped pick them off with the hand of his Sniper Rifle, and soon all of the Engineers had been taken care of. The Teleporter remained, but was quickly demolished when Pyro slammed a neon sign into the middle, the machine crackling before exploding.

"Appreciate it, mate." Sniper shook the Pyro's hand, who nodded in response.

Stepping over the charred corpses of the foolish Engineers, Sniper reached the room with their Intelligence inside, taking the enemy's briefcase off his back. He planted the briefcase by his team's own, the blue secrets vanishing as soon as they touched the desk. As soon as he did so, both his and Pyro's weapons began glowing with a red sheen, small sparks of electricity emanating off of the glow. Sniper smiled, and Pyro gave a thumbs up.

"Victory." The loudspeakers within the base sounded off. Sounds of cheering from a crowd followed.

"Okay, mate." Sniper raised his hand for a high five, smiling.

Pyro wouldn't be rude and leave him hanging, so he slapped his hand, a satisfying smack heard after. They both posed epically, well as epic as crossing your arms and raising your hands in triumph gets. Sniper stretched his legs a little more, still finding that they had an undesirable fatigue to them after his journey through the two forts.

"Remind me to get a health pack before I leave." Sniper said, Pyro patting him on the back.

"Good job, here's your reward. See you tomorrow, gentlemen. Pyro." The loudspeakers finished, shutting off.

Sniper and Pyro both stuck their hands out with excitement, palms to the ceiling, only for wooden crates wrapped with locks to fall from the sky and land on them, a solid thump heard as they collided.

Sniper found: Mann Co. Supply Crate Series #57

Pyro found: Mann Co. Supply Crate Series #77

...Nice find?

Both of them groaned underneath the boxes.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the wait times, had a little time issues. Basically, this story is just going to be mostly shenanigans on maps and locations in the game, as well as little side things with the mercenaries trying to live their lives after their work. Thanks to Guest for reviewing by the way. This is ThePizzaLovingTurtle, going to buy keys for crates. See you next time!


	3. Soldier's Flying Lessons

**Team Fortress 2: The Jobs at Mann Co. Industry**

 **Rocket Jumping for Maggots**

A man, garbed in a red uniform, a cap with a small eagle symbol on top, a brown unkempt beard stuck on his face, and a zip coat with fur cuffs and collar, stood in front of a collection of men, Pyro, and a variety of cardboard cutouts.

The man cleared his throat. "Now, some of you maggots have been complaining about the lack of vehicles and easy transportation options in this war we have been fighting, saying that running around is, 'too hard' or 'time consuming'. All I can say to that is-"

He grabbed one of the cardboard cutouts by its wooden neck, splinters from the wood hardly fazing him.

"STOP BEING A LAZY, GOOD FOR NOTHING COMPLAINER. We have feet God has given to us to tread on, Teleporters by the ever dutiful Engies, pathways so very well made by the management, and YOU feel the need to complain?! Disgraceful! I should court marshall all of you right now!"

"Uh, Soldier?" A thin man raised a bandaged up hand.

"Yes?"

"I don't see anybody complanin' I certainly ain't, after all, I am the Scout here, I can just run ahead. You been drinking too much coffee?"

Soldier stopped sipping his mug of joe, and tossed it out a nearby window, where it crashed through the glass and probably injured someone due to the, "AAAHHHH!" that sounded shortly after.

"Yeah." Sniper said, sitting nearby. "What's the huge fuss about anyways? Someone convincing you we're layabouts? The BLU Spy's probably playing tricks on you again."

"Trust me." A dignified French accent cut in.

A man's head materialized out of thin air, a seemingly disembodied arm revealing a watch that seemed to be draining away.

"This is not a trick." The stealthy head spoke, vanishing once more.

The entire group just stared at the air, and resumed with the meeting, with grumbles.

"Should've locked the windows." Sniper mumbled.

"Attention!" Soldier shouted, causing the two other men, excluding Pyro, to cringe. "One of these lousy good for nothings over here…" He gestured once more to the cut outs. "...Doesn't know how real men travel! We didn't have airplanes, trucks, or the like, we only had guns, and we were proud of it!" Soldier reached for a large weapon on the ground, stacking it proudly next to him. "Rocket Launchers, man's best friend! Er, other than the magnificent killing machine that is the dog. With one of these babies, you could move faster than any of those pansy cars, and soar through the sky majestically, unlike those useless planes, like the damn proud eagles we are!"

I think a certain pair of popstar cousins wouldn't like you saying that…

The entire group looked at the ceiling oddly, where the unknown voice sounded from.

"Ah, let them cry about it delusion in our heads, this is war, feelings stay off MY battlefield!" Soldier exclaimed proudly.

"So uh, Soldier? What's the plan then?" Scout asked nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

"Heheheheheh… Privates, time to earn your wings! Grab your gear and let's shove off, to glory!" Soldier yelled, marching away, motioning for them to follow.

With groans, (and one muffled cheer of excitement) the three other classes followed Soldier outside, heads down low in silent prayer (one head cheerfully walking along).

* * *

The entire group sat on a large cliff overlooking a huge drop to the dusty land below. The cliff itself wasn't in great condition, multiple chunks of sediment and stone chipping off as they stood on it, falling down to the very bottom, barely audible echoes of the rock shattering following the collision despite the large height of the cliff face to the ground below.

"This is where we will practice flying, men. And Pyro. Ready your weapons for flight!"

Pyro held up a flare gun with black tape wrapped around it, Scout took out a shotgun that had two soda cans taped beneath, and Sniper had his Sniper Rifle, although he didn't look too happy.

"First things first, propulsion! Or as I like to call it, blowing up the ground! Pyro, you're up first, make me proud soldier!"

"Uh, Soldier, this looks like a terrible idea." Scout said, looking around. "I'll just head back home…"

Scout began to jog back, but was interrupted by a loud shotgun blast being fired just above his head.

"Are you crazy?!" Scout yelled, crouching low.

"We do not allow quitters on our team, maggot! Stand by and wait your turn, private!" Soldier yelled back, an annoyed Scout sitting back down on top of the cliff face. "Pyro, you're up, show these two how to fly!"

* * *

Pyro stood on a rather tall cliff, magnificent grassy cliff overlooking a cheerful looking valley, full of smiling faces and a bright sun. He smiled, waving at all of the rocks laughing as they dropped down from the cliff, happy to be alive.

* * *

"Pyro! Are you hearing me?!"

Pyro turned around to look at Soldier, a delusional yet hardly noticeable smile on Pyro's face. Soldier grunted.

"You know what to do, make me proud!" Soldier said, pointing away from the cliff face.

Pyro nodded, moving backwards from the top of the cliff. He readied his modified flare gun, and ran towards the cliff face, aimed the flare gun at the ground, jumped, and fired, the blast from the flare launching Pyro clear off the cliff. He soared beautifully, the wind affecting the sentient blob cosmetic on his head somewhat, for about five whole seconds, plummeting to the ground once those seconds were done, a muffled scream sounding throughout the entire valley, and stopped with a thud.

Sniper and Scout were staring mouths agape and eyes wide. Soldier on the other hand, smirked. "Good first effort! Sniper, you're up next!"

Soldier picked Sniper up by his collar's back, and threw him off the cliff. He flailed helplessly, and fell to the ground with another loud scream, silenced again with another thud. A muffled greeting sounded soon after.

"I'm outta here!" Scout attempted to run, but was ultimately tossed off the cliff, Soldier pushing him off. Luckily, he managed to activate his gun, the soda cans on the bottom shining a brilliant violet. Scout began jumping multiple times in the air, suspending him in midair. "Ha, nice try!"

Soldier grinned and gave him a salute, then the soda cans unluckily stopped shining.

"...Screw you Soldier." He said, and fell down, an annoyed silence following him.

Soldier stopped saluting and growled. "...If I had a spreadsheet, I'd stomp it into the ground on account of your FAILURES!" He yelled after them, pained groans answering back. "Now THIS is how you fly!"

He took out his Rocket Launcher, aiming at the ground, somehow jumped and crouched in midair, and blasted the ground, his feet alight as he jumped through the sky, pumping his fist in the air in victory. Alas, he followed the same fate as his teammates, falling to to the ground with a sickening crack, all four of them lying on the ground, losing consciousness. And blood, lots and lots of blood.

* * *

Soldier opened his eyes slowly. He tried to stand up, but laid back down once another bone was heard breaking.

"Ach, I just healed that bone! Well, as much as bones can be healed."

The uniform mercenary scanned his surroundings, the other three unsuccessful flyers sitting in beds, some limbs suspended using fracture apparatuses.

"Dummkopfs, probably some sort of war paranoia." A man garbed in what appeared to be a surplice with a gold medal on the chest area, a tricorn on his head, and a magnificent white beard was looking over a spreadsheet of sorts, with "F"s written in multiple boxes.

"Thanks Doc." Soldier coughed.

"Yes yes, but try not to kill yourself off the battlefield next time, our pay has been deducted again because of the medical expenses."

"Medic." Sniper weakly spoke up.

"Yes?"

"For the love of God, make sure Soldier never brings us on his 'training' exercises ever again. I swear, if I find the man who complained…"

"Ah, that would be me. Next time, protect me on the battlefield, it is time consuming to die and find anyone again, I am a busy man. Now if you will excuse me…"

A gurgling sound could be heard from another room.

"...I have forgotten to check on my other patient. Rest now, you will need it for tomorrow." Medic stated, busily rushing to the other room.

"Soldier." Scout started.

"Yes?"

"As soon as I get outta these bandages, I will smack you with a pan. I'll never come with you to anything ever again." Scout stated simply.

"Ha! Don't worry. After seeing your absolutely awful performance, I wouldn't dream of it!"

Sighs of relief came from the injured mercenaries. Suddenly, a voice rang out, "Mercenaries, robots have been spotted advancing on the decoy base, we need you to move out now!" All except Soldier groaned, Soldier grinning widely.

"You heard the lady, let's move!" Soldier hobbled outside on one unbandaged leg.

The other three looked at each other, then shook their heads, resting while Soldier went to blow up some robots somewhere.

"Rocket hopping simpleton." Sniper groaned, falling asleep.

* * *

AN: Be careful, as the old saying goes, "Look before you leap". Another good saying is, "Don't always trust Soldier". Apologies for the late update, anyone who happens to read this. This is ThePizzaLovingTurtle, thanks for reading!


	4. Medical Mishap

**Team Fortress 2: The Jobs at Mann Co. Industry**

 **Medical Mishap**

Soldier groaned. While his enthusiasm for kicking robot tails was unmatched by even the most anti-robot personnel at the moment, he was bone tired, already burning his shoes beyond disbelief by blowing himself up in attempts at rocket jumping to the front lines.

"...Real men don't complain about their problems!" Soldier commanded himself, trying to take his mind off the pain. "They fight through it, keep moving for-"

A large cracking noise coming from Soldier's thigh begged to differ, sending the mercenary sprawling onto the ground with a scream. Soldier grunted, the pain growing intense, reaching for anything that might help him up. Grasping at a wooden stick lying nearby, he tried to prop himself up using the stick, only to somehow float upwards.

"Holy mother of…" Soldier muttered, looking down at the "stick". He was hovering above the ground, on a broom of sorts, a ten dollar price tag stuck on the back of it.

Thought you might need this Soldier.

Soldier leaned forward, moving forward as well. He saluted. "I commend you for your quick thinking, delusional voice!" He laughed loudly, whooshing away on the magic broom.

I already regret giving a volatile mercenary a magic broomstick, but at the same time curious to see where this goes.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the base, the Medic himself was busy working on his test subjects- Patients, I meant patients.

Medic coughed to the side, clearing his throat. "Ah." He spoke, a much clearer German accent finally coming to him, resonating throughout the base. "Much better. Now, heh heh he… Where were we?"

He looked down to a dark skinned man lying on an operating table stained red, clothes torn and chest wide ripped open, where a large foreign bottle was lodged inside his stomach.

"Ach. Drank too much that you could chew, eh Demoman?" The Medic jested, poking the bottle with a gloved hand, only for him to accidentally rupture some sort of vein, blood spurting from the nose of the bottle, splattering onto the Medic's white robe, staining it red. "...I would kill you for that if you weren't already dying, gah. Alcoholic."

The medicine man reached for a tray, a set of pristine tools, well at least not stained bloody tools, laid on it. Picking up a white marble statue with the label, "Do no harm", he swung the statue like a golf club, dislodging the bottle, a bit of blood raining straight up.

"Enough of that fried egg!" The Medic chuckled. He adjusted a pair of small round glasses on his face. "The reference refers to golf, my good Demoman."

Demoman didn't say anything, as he was knocked out, and bleeding to death. Satisfied with the absolute terrifying way he removed the foreign bottle, Medic reached over his own head, grasping onto a mysterious device. Aiming the mouth of it at the dying man's chest, he positioned it cleanly, reaching for a switch and flicking it. The machine glowed, and released a gentle beam of light at the patient, the man's bleeding grinding to a halt, and his chest cavity slowly merging. The tissue and organs reverted to a healthy, regular chest, the torn clothes inexplicably growing back as well.

Medic coughed to get his attention, the previously comatose man sitting up slowly. His head was covered with a viking helmet of sorts, a little bronze plate sticking out from it that protected his face slightly and covered his left eye, a black eyepatch underneath the already clearly covered eye. His mending clothes consisted of a classic pink pirate vest and a large pair of blooming scottish pants.

"Erm. ...Valhalla?" The man spoke with a Scottish accent.

"Far from it, mein Freund." Medic informed him. "Arise, Demoman, from your grave. Arise!"

"Ya, ya. I got it…" Demoman swallowed, attempting to get off the bloody bunk he laid on, failing, and falling straight onto the previously cleanly swabbed floor below, with a loud groan. Blood stained the ground, which seemed to annoy Medic.

Medic sighed, and reached for the large healing machine he had used, grabbing it and tugging it off, sparks of electricity and protest from the machine. Pointing the health gun at the Demoman, he flicked a lever connected to said weapon, the safe red light emanating out again, the Scottish one eyed man getting up to his feet easily, although the pain in his stomach area prevented him from standing up straight.

"Oogh… Doc, did you happen to leave something in there?"

Medic pondered this, grabbing a large bonesaw and slicing through directly Demoman. Medic reached into the new incision, easily pulling out a large fragment of bottle, still healing Demoman despite his screams of agony, his chest closing again after the sudden move.

"AOOOOOW!" Demoman howled in pain.

"Bitte schön." Medic said, chuckling.

Suddenly, a flock of doves came down, pecking at the discarded organ tissue on the ground.

"Ach! Wilhelm, Jacobi, away! Archimedes, keep an eye on your friends!" Medic scolded the flock.

One of the doves seemed to nod, pecking at the other doves to leave, and they all flew off.

"Gah, doves. Some have the attitude of a pigeon, apologies."

Demoman was holding his sides, not in pain, but held them tightly as if to check if they were still intact and accounted for.

"Liver… Gallbladder… Stomach? Alright lads, now that you're here, we're off to war! Thanks Doc!" Demoman said, running outside.

"Hmph." Medic grinned, waving off the previously dying man. "Maybe now I can relax and-"

"ATTENTION, ALL REMAINING PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR BATTLE STATIONS."

Medic slammed his fist on a wall annoyed, causing a nearby glass container filled with a mysterious green fluid to drop and shatter, growling sounds coming from the floor.

"...Oh." Medic cleared his throat. "Now now, little bread, there's no need to-"

A loaf of bread with several rows of teeth leapt at Medic, only to get completely sawed in half.

"Silly bread." Medic said, picking up the cut loaf, and walking away, tossing the discarded, previously living bread into a trash bin on the way out. The bin rustled, a sickly green glow emanating from the hole in the bin.

* * *

Medic arrived rather quickly to his position, Medigun poised and at the ready. He scanned the battlefield, a large dustbowl ahead of him, literally the battleground map Dustbowl to be precise, orange dirt covering the ground everywhere, small supply shacks and a building with two stories, a large gray disc with a red spot on the second floor of it, exposed to the air. The entire place was closed in by walls, probably for the best considering the amount of bloodshed about to take place. Medic stood before an enclosed gate, the opposing team standing a mere brisk walk in front of him, all cocking their weapons readily. Medic looked around for his team, red wearing men also carrying volatile weapons aiming steadily at the gates. He grinned evilly, revving up his medical weapon of sorts. The Medigun responded with a beep, signaling that it was fully operational and ready to heal.

"Mission begins in thirty seconds." A voice notified the mercenaries through a series of loudspeakers built all over the map.

Everyone's hold on their weapons increased, their fingers gradually descending on the trigger. Marksmans' eyes were narrowed in anticipation of a moving target, miniguns held by hulking behemoths of men were whirring mechanically, bullets at the ready. Finally, Medic, the only healer on the map, cleared his throat, not as dramatic as the previously mentioned weapons.

"Mission begins in ten seconds." The voice added.

Everyone tensed up.

"Five, four, three, two, one…" The voice counted down. At the end of "one", the gates retracted upwards and downwards into thin slots, releasing the blue colored team out of their base, battle cries being shouted by both sides.

Bullets, grenades, rockets, and other deadly projectiles were shot to and from the gates, sounds of satisfying, painful yelps from both sides spurring the dogs of war, only increasing the death toll and fire rate of bullets. Medic was frantically healing teammates fighting nearby, moving from place to place, aiming the beam at anyone who had a couple leaking holes in them. A sparkling of energy from the mouth of the gun indicated that a charge of sorts was ready for deployment. Medic smiled evilly, aiming the the gun at a teammate, which happened to be the Demoman he operated on just hours ago. The one-eyed man was carrying a hand cannon weapon, literally a hand held pirate cannon, firing cannonballs that just so happened to have fuses, ramming into foes and exploding after the impact.

"I am fully charged!" Medic called out to his team, getting their attention.

Demoman gladly welcomed this, giving Medic a "ready-to-go" grin, which was answered back with a healing beam directed towards him. The beam began to spark rapidly, the beam affecting the entirety of of Demoman's body, the demolition expert beginning to shine red, when a red metallic sheen to match their team color glowed off of him and Medic. The two charged forward with their newfound appearance, bullets and rockets bouncing off of them harmlessly as they bowled over anyone misfortunate enough to get in their way.

"Hahaha, yes! We are unstoppable!" Medic shouted maniacally.

This killing spree would not last for long, as a pair of enemies from the blue team charged forwards, their appearance practically a blue reflection of theirs, an invulnerable force to rival theirs. Only, man being healed was humongous, a belt of bullets slung over him, firing a large minigun, shredding men in red colored uniforms with a rain of bullets.

"Well then, let's see whose ÜberCharge end first!" Medic challenged them.

The red glow of the two blinked out slowly, the period of invincibility vanishing.

"...Ah." Medic said.

The pair of RED mercenaries were rapidly filled with bullets, the two falling to the ground with loud thumps. The BLU team, on the other hand, quickly moved to the large disc, standing on top of it, the red light switching to blue, signifying that the azure warriors were victorious in securing that area, the remaining maroon men retreating to mining tunnels, a large set of rustic buildings buildings ahead of them.

Medic popped back up in a white room, Demoman arriving behind him shortly. Medic adjusted a new pair of simple spectacles to fit on his face fine, nausea from his previous death fading away.

"If only revitalization were as simple as… Killing a man and watching him spring back to life. Ah, my occupation would be much less tedious." Medic talked amongst himself, readying his Medigun once more.

Demoman scowled, walking to one side of the room adjacent to a huge garage door, moving towards a large resupply cabinet with an pack of bullets and a red plus symbol on the front. Opening the locker, he reached inside, picking up a brown bottle with three "X"s on the label. Taking a swig, he downed the bottle quickly, belching soon after.

"Ugh." Demoman groaned, running out of the room, the garage door automatically opening as he edged near.

Medic followed him outside, running outside to a wall of dirt. Moving past the wall, he stood in a small complex, the large rustic building in front of him with a small platform besides it, another gray disc with a red light on top of it, two flights of stairs leading up to it. Beyond the building where the mining tunnels the other RED team members managed to escape to, which were now under heavy guard, men with bazookas and shotguns aiming at the tunnel mouths for any opposing blue enemies, Sentry guns constructed to provide advanced firepower. Medic went from person to person, healing his teammates, the meter on his Medigun slowly increasing with charge. Just then, a battalion of blue team members charged forwards, a blue ÜberCharge sheen glowing off a pair of them, deflecting bullets. The man at the front, using a grenade launcher, blasted the sentries to bits with blue explosive shells. The red team was beginning to get massacred, warriors dropping to the ground, waiting to respawn later. Medic managed to duck behind the cover of a large rock with a large medkit behind it for some reason, because main characters seem to always survive in dire moments, healing… Scout.

"Thanks Doc!" Scout gave him a thumbs up, which only irritated Medic.

"Gah! Of all of the… I should've healed the Pyro." Medic said, a person in a flame retardant falling to the ground dead besides him.

"Hah! Don't worry Medic, you can count on the Scout and his Scattergun!" Scout said, cocking a short double barrel shotgun, running out to try and defeat the enemy force.

Sounds of explosions and gunfire rang out, and the Scattergun Scout was carrying bounced behind the rock.

"..." Medic stared at the shotgun hopelessly.

Looking down at the Medigun, he noticed that the Über meter was built up. Medic sighed, putting a hand to his cheek.

"Mission ends in thirty seconds." The voice called out.

Medic peered out from behind the rock, recoiling back when he noticed a rifle being fired a mere inch away from his head. Sighing, he decided to activate the ÜberCharge anyways, with little to no options left in his head. Jumping out of cover, he activated the Über.

"Doctor!"

Medic turned to his left, a large bald man with a minigun, fortunately wearing his team color, advancing towards him.

Medic grinned evilly. "Hoo hoo… This is going to be rather fun!"

Medic pointed the Medigun at the tank of a man, flicking a switch, the Über activating. The beam caught the man, healing him and making him invincible. The two ran up to the control point, the large man gunning down enemies left and right.

"Mission ends in ten seconds."

The invulnerability began to blink out, but the two were still going strong. Fewer BLUs were advancing on them now, but were still determined to take the control point.

"Five, four…"

The sheen wore off, bullets grazing the two red mercenaries. A few more red teammates had left their spawn room, coming to join the two still alive.

"Three, two, one…"

Medic smiled, wiping his brow. The red team's weapons glowed brightly, sparks of energy coming off of them. The BLU team had dropped their weapons, shaking in fear. Medic pulled out a different weapon, a crossbow decorated with festive Christmas decorations, such as a red bow and multicolor tree lights. He shot the bow at an enemy trying to escape, a red candy cane piercing his abdomen, killing the man instantly.

"Victory." The loudspeakers told the winning team.

The winners cried out victoriously, and went on to murder everyone else, screams echoing throughout the dustbowl, much to Medic's happiness.

* * *

Medic leisurely strut back to his medical room, cheers from other mercenaries sounding throughout the large base. The psychotic medical man took a seat on a bench, wrapping his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of content, finally resting.

"Grrrr…"

Medic opened one eye, looking over at a trash can. Two mutant bread mouths appeared, angrily bristling at the doctor. Medic stroked his beard once, then took out a saw with a medical plus symbol in the center, a spike on the side.

"Unfinished business, I presume?" Medic asked the bread, which snarled at the sound of his voice. "Well then."

The bread jumped out of the trash can at Medic, who brandished the saw at the bread. The noise of growling and saw clangs was muffled by the glad cheers of mercenaries, still rejoicing over their extremely close victory.

* * *

AN: Sorry about the delay, a bit stuffed up, both with work and with a cold. Anyways, ignoring that, thanks to sebastian830 for reviewing. Yeah, Sniper does not have the power of owl flight, as I unfortunately do not have that cosmetic, thanks for reminding me of Medic's accent. Other than that, thanks for reading, this is ThePizzaLovingTurtle, see you when I see you!


	5. The Campfire

**Team Fortress 2: The Jobs at Mann Co. Industry**

 **The Campfire**

The sky was dark, almost pitch black if it weren't for the stars illuminating it barely. It shone down on a dusty flatland, a few plumes of grass sticking out. The only sounds that could be heard were the crackling of a wooden fire and the strums of a guitar. A man, sitting by a campfire enclosed with a few gray round rocks was playing the guitar slowly, a stream of melodic strums echoing throughout the night. A white hat entirely comprised of sheet metal and bolts laid on his head, goggles strapped to his face underneath, a coat normally feasible for Antarctic exploring worn on his person, with a strange mechanical armband worn on his arm, an Engineer giving a thumbs up smack dab on the monitor. The man sat upright on a chair comprised of metallic materials, a small shelf with rows of beer stacked neatly on top. The man seemed calm and content, doing nothing but relaxing with his guitar, strumming just for the sake of strumming.

"Hmm. Quiet night, ain't it?" The man said calmly, in a Southern accent, looking up at the stars.

"It's boring, that's what it is." A cocky Boston voice responded.

The Texan groaned, laying his guitar down, looking over at the three others sitting by the fire with him. Scout, Sniper, and Pyro, bloodied bandages wrapped around their torsos and appendages, sat by the fire. Scout let his hand hang loose over his leg, sitting by with an indifferent face, Sniper laid flat on his back staring up at the sky, and Pyro, well, Pyro just like the fire, poking it and giggling through its mask each time the flames rose even in the slightest.

"If yah knew you were gonna get bored sittin' around, why'd you even bother boy?" The man sitting in the chair asked.

"Engineer." Scout began. "Would ya rather sit back under a boring sky or go with Soldier on his… 'Witching spree'?" Scout said, creating quotes in the air.

Engineer paused, his fingers hovering over a chord.

"Hmm… Well…"

* * *

"Free haircuts for all, AHAHAHAHAHA" Soldier cackled on his floating broomstick, firing beams of magical energy at random people's hair, eradicating the domes of innocents of any strand of hair, victims crying out in agony as their once luscious full heads of hair were changed to shiny, bald heads.

* * *

"Ah, I don't think it matters much," Engineer said, lifting his tin-gallon hat, tapping on a bald head underneath, chuckling, Scout huffing in response.

"Eh, don't listen to him, Engie. Thanks for inviting us, gives me time off from my painstakingly difficult job." Sniper said, letting his arm go slack, grunting in relaxation.

"Yeah, pointing at people's heads," Scout pretended to pull a trigger on an imaginary gun. "And clicking the trigger, REAL hard to do."

Sniper's eyes rolled between his eyepiece and sunglasses. "Coming from the bloke who runs around all day."

"Hey, you WISH you could run around as fast as I could, sure would help with all the times the enemy Spy snuck up on ya!" Scout scoffed.

Sniper laughed facetiously. "Don't need to! I can just CHOP the backstabber's bloody arm off with an even bigger knife than 'is!" Sniper took out his Kukri, showing it off, Scout pushing the large knife away with a grumble.

"MMMPH MMM, MMPH." Pyro joined in the argument, gesturing to the campfire, which was flickering out.

The two other classes raised an eyebrow at the firebug, then shrugged, returning to their squabbles. Pyro groaned, plucking a nearby tuft of grass, tossing it on the fire, where it was incinerated immediately, the fire dancing slightly in response, though the fire continued fading.

"Hah! Nice try pal, but we both know that if my arms weren't shattered in nineteen different places, I'd break your skull in twenty!" Scout boasted.

Sniper growled. "Yeah? Engie, who'd win in a fight, me or this tiny headed, big-note oneself?!"

The both of them were answered with the snoring of a Texan man, his hat tilted to shield his eyes, though there was little light to shield against.

Scout turned back to Sniper, eyes glaring with intensity stronger than the fire that was dying. "Before you think you can think you can walk off five feet and try and aim at me, I'll have you know I'd be too fast for you to hit, can't stop a bullet with a bullet!"

"Bullet? Ha! With those noodle arms, I'd say you're much less a bullet, back home we feed 'bullets' like you to the wildlife!" Sniper laughed, poking at Scout's arms.

"THAT INSULT DIDN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!" Scout screamed.

"Maybe if you had even HALF a brain, it would! Wouldn't surprise me if all that running in circles had you dropped it somewhere!" Sniper growled, pointing a finger at him.

"Mmph." Pyro nudged the two, gesturing to the fire.

"WHAT?!" Scout and Sniper yelled at the pyromaniac.

Pyro's eyes seemed to light up somehow, Pyro staring happily into the fire. The light in his "eyes" actually came from the fire on the ground, which was burning intensely, flames leaping up, almost reaching for the stars. Scout and Sniper's eyes nearly burst out of their sockets in surprise.

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" Scout yelled alarmed, running around the campfire panickedly.

"Yeah! We can see that, ya bloody bogan!" Sniper shouted, pushing Scout out of the way, standing up unsteadily. "I'll handle this!"

Sniper reached into his pants pockets, pulling out an empty jar. Looking around, he spotted a nearby bush. He jumped into the bush, a sprinkling sound coming from the bush for about a minute, before Sniper jumped out, the jar filled with a sickly yellow liquid. Scout's face twisted to that of disgust.

"Uuh! That's freaking disgusting, man!" Scout said, raising his arms out as if to defend himself from the jar based karate.

Sniper sneered. "Yeah? What would YOU do in this situation?"

"Watch and learn, chucklenuts!" Scout laughed, leaping behind the same bush.

Grunts and questionable sounds came from the bush, after a minute, Scout came out with a bottle containing a white liquid, grinning like a loon.

"..." Sniper grimaced in disgust.

"What?!" Scout asked, holding up what appeared to be a small carton of milk, the contents having spilled into the bottle.

"'Mad Milk'? Radioactive milk substitute? Bah! Those things taste about as good as a pigeon ran over!" Sniper scoffed.

Scout stared at Sniper oddly. "Really? And how'd you know how that tastes?"

Sniper paused for a minute. "...Experience. Just put out the fire!"

Scout rolled his eyes, raising the jar of milk substance over his head, slamming it into the fire. Scout smiled confidently, sure he had quelled the fire. Short story even shorter, it didn't work, the flames growing even larger as a result.

"Aaugh!" Scout cried, gripping his hat.

"Sigh. What a joker." Sniper said, pushing Scout to the side, throwing the jar of yellow bodily fluids into the fire.

The jar broke instantly, yellow coating the flames and wood efficiently. Sniper smiled at Scout, who scowled in response, the scowl returning to a wide eyed look of fright. Sniper stopped smiling, following Scout's terrified gaze, realizing that the fire was only drenched in the fire pit. The fire was currently spreading to Engineer, flames crawling up his legs, his sleeping form not feeling any heat whatsoever.

"Oh come on!" The both of them shouted.

* * *

Meanwhile, Pyro was sitting by, watching the entire thing unfold. Through Pyro's eyes, however, the scene looked much different. The sky was still dark, though the stars inexplicably had smiles on them. Sniper and Scout giggled nonstop, riding on rainbows, disappointed when the rainbows eventually faded. However, the two's faces lit up with happiness once more, a rainbow was wrapping around Grandpa Engie's legs. Delighted, the two ran over to him, Pyro clapping happily.

* * *

Pyro continued clapping, continuing to watch the two freak out over Engineer's pants bursting into flames, Engineer still snoring tranquilly.

"Gah!" Sniper growled, looking around for anything that could stop the fire.

"Aw man, Engie's gonna be toast if we don't do something!" Scout shouted, gesturing both of his hands towards Engineer's still burning pants.

Sniper frowned. "Then go DO something."

Scout looked around, then spotted something on Engineer's chair. He spotted a variety of different beers. Scout picked up three of them, nestling them in his bandaged arm, taking one and prepared to pour it on Engineer, when Sniper grabbed his non-bandaged arm.

"Are you INSANE?! That's just gonna make it worse you bloody idiot!" Sniper cried out, pulling Scout back.

"I GOT THIS, LEMME GO!" Scout shouted in turn, elbowing Sniper harshly.

Sniper was sent back, landing on his back, reaching out with his hand hopelessly. Scout sighed, aiming the bottle of beer at Engineer…

Pouring beer on Engineer's face.

Engineer woke up startled, prepared to beat down the no good varmint that rudely woke him up. The smell of something burning stopped him, Engineer looking down at his pants. He inhaled sharply through his teeth, dropping down onto the ground, rolling repeatedly on the ground, the flames dying down. After a few minutes of rolling, the fire had finally diminished, Pyro groaning nearby.

Scout and Sniper breathed sighs of relief. Their sighs turned into sharp inhales, realizing Engineer was glaring at them, wiping off soot from his pants.

"Normally, I'd be steamin' mad you two screwed up. But considering you halted an untimely experience with fire, I'll let you two go for now." Engineer sighed, walking back to his chair.

Engineer pressed a button on the side of his lawnchair, the chair disassembling itself, the umbrella, shelf and all folding on itself, shrinking until all of the metal chair was small enough to fit inside a small box, which conveniently was the case, a small metal case storing the chair inside. Engineer picked the case up, carrying it away with a grumble. Pyro stood up, and followed after him, waving goodbye to Sniper and Scout.

Sniper turned to Scout, rubbing the back of his neck. "...Huh. Didn't think you'd have the brains to think of that."

Scout scoffed. "Yeah, well, whatever."

"...Look, I know I've been pretty rash before, but for what it's worth…" Sniper groaned internally, gritting his teeth. "I'm… sorry."

"..."

"Didn't you hear me?! I said-" Sniper gritted his teeth again. "I'M… SORRY."

"Yeah! I heard it the first time!" Scout shouted.

The two sat in silence for a while in the dark, a thick awkwardness filling the air.

"...Well, I'm heading back to my van." Sniper said, walking away. "...Thanks for helping me put out Engie."

"...Yep." Scout nodded.

Sniper walked away under the stars, leaving Scout to stand by himself over an extinguished fire pit.

"...Least I got some milk." Scout said, taking out the radioactive milk carton out, and drank a drop, "savoring" the taste.

Scout walked away from the fire pit as well, leaving the blackened fire pit to smoke silently underneath the night sky.


	6. Demo's Scrumpy Quest

**Team Fortress 2: The Jobs at Mann Co. Industry**

 **Demo's Scrumpy Quest**

Demoman checked the refrigerator, many bundles of bottles stacked messily inside. He reached for one, popping off the cork with ease, downing the contents of the drink bottle within seconds, wiping his maw, and walked away, tossing the empty bottle away. Then he ran back to the fridge, opening the door, taking three more bottles, already starting on guzzling one right away.

Demoman continued to follow this routine for about a few hours, going from sitting on a shaggy old couch with a sword somehow perpetually coated in ice embed in one of the armrests, slumping himself onto the couch every single time. When he runs out of booze? Run back, grab some more, slouch some more on the couch, rinse with whiskey, repeat.

After about five hours of nothing but chugging booze on the couch, Demoman got up to his feet shakily, using the couch armrests as support. He shambled over to the fridge as if he were possessed by a demon with a thirst for alcohol, slamming the fridge door open with no care in the world. He reached inside, grumbling, his eye shooting open wide. Demoman practically slammed his face into the refrigerator, his eye hungrily searching for any trace of the addictive liquid, finding nothing but bottles of water.

"AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!" Demoman shouted, sending pigeons crowding above his small home scattered, flying away.

Demoman kicked his house door open, now suddenly garbed in a knight's helm, a black suit of armor, and a kilt, dashing away with a sword coated in ice gripped using both of his hands. A broken steering wheel of a pirate ship laid on his arm, displayed proudly.

"Eyelander! Show me where I can find more drinks! We've run out, hurry for God's sake!" Demo cried to the sword.

The sword seemed to glow, a frosty sigh escaping the blade. "There's still water in the fridge."

Demoman scowled at the sword. "Bah, tasteless! I need some good rum or whisky, not the pansy water weaklings drink!"

If the sword had a face, its eyes would be rolling at Demoman's lust for an alcoholic beverage. "How should I know, I'm not a booze tracker. Go find some yourself if you're that desperate."

Demoman grinned. "Oh, I will! Eyelander! We will charge forth, searching the world for great tasting, yet affordable whisky!"

Eyelander didn't speak, an ominous glow emanating off the blade.

"That's more like it!" Demoman shouted, then cried a fierce battle cry, charging off into the unknown.

* * *

Instead of the unknown, we find Demoman dashing through a gravel pit, literally the map, Gravel Pit, to be precise. Running across tiny, hardly qualifiable for plains, plains, he stopped at a corner, pushing himself flat against a wall, looking around the small corridor the corner lead into.

"All I'm saying is, maybe if we stopped leaving around giant floating packs of ammo and health for ANYONE to grab and hogged 'em for ourselves, we wouldn't die as much." Scout said to Sniper, who nodded.

"Maybe carrying them around would actually help, though this, 'purely cosmetics' worn on our backs ain't helping much." Sniper said.

Scout nodded in agreement, then turned to face Demoman, his eyes growing wide. "Demo?!"

Demoman charged straight at Scout, his sword and "shield" glowing red, and slammed into the frailer class, sending the two of them into a wall. Once hitting the wall, Demo straightened himself up, then picked up and cleaned Scout off, giving him a brief thumbs-up.

"You lads see any scrumpy around here?" Demoman asked.

Scout blinked, shaking his head, Demoman reacting by picking Scout up by his neck and tossing him at Sniper, not amused with the turnout. Demoman huffed, walking away.

"Drunk cyclops!" Scout shouted angrily.

Demo responded by running back cowardly, shouting.

"That's what I thought!" Scout yelled at him triumphantly.

As soon as Scout yelled that, a parade of BLU Soldiers stormed into the hallway, shooting at Scout, blowing him up into a thousand chunks in an instant. Sniper flinched, taking a step back with his Sniper Rifle raised, but soon found himself suffering the same fate. Their last thoughts before completely slipping into the cold recesses of death was how much of a dick Demoman was.

* * *

Demoman stood on top of a large rock, surveying the land for nose or base of a bottle of whiskey, his magic talking sword buddy at his side.

"Eyelander, you spot anything yet?" Demoman asked, swerving his head from side to side.

"No." It replied. "Unless you count dirt. Then yes."

Demoman scowled. Hopping off of the rock, he began to traverse the dusty landscape, determined on finding an alcoholic beverage. Landing quite carelessly, Demoman broke literally every bone in his body, and died instantly.

* * *

-Whoops-

* * *

Landing a little less carelessly this time, Demoman wobbily landed, almost falling, but managed to stand straight. He was congratulated with imaginary applause, his Eyelander blade hardly reacting to his buffoonery.

"Forward Eyelander!" Demoman yelled drawing his sword forward, Eyelander sighing as a result.

Now Demoman stood under a great tree, a round platform extending around it. Two buildings that mirrored each other with multiple open entrances and exits followed. This happened to be the new map, ctf_landfall. But to Demo, it was yet another locale he expected beer to appear in. Demo walked around the tree, walking through a wooden path towards what he understood was the enemy base.

" _I can just taste the whisky, almost have it…!"_ Demoman thought, charging ahead.

"You bloody idiot, watch where you're going!" Eyelander cried out.

Demoman scoffed, ignoring his sword's word of advice, charging on towards the base through a grassy path. Then he was blown to bits by a thousand Sentry guns placed randomly over the base.

Demoman respawned rather quickly, groaning. Slumping in the corner of the new room he found himself in, he sighed, holding his head in his hands.

"That's it, I give up." Demoman muttered sadly.

"Thank God." Eyelander said.

"WHAT DOES A MAN HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME BOOZE AROUND HERE?!" Demoman shouted to the ceiling.

Demoman sighed, walking outside the building, conveniently leaving through an automatic garage door of the spawn. Walking out, he began moving away from the map, he was just about to leave, when someone called out to him.

"Hey! Eyepatch!" A familiar Southern accent called out.

Demoman turned to his left, where an Engineer was relaxing on his robotic lawnchair, sipping a beer. The Engineer picked up a bottle, and offered it to Demoman.

"Lookin' a little parched, partner. Fancy a drink?" He asked.

Demoman's face shifted into a huge grin. Charging over to the Engineer, he took the drink, and chugged it down with no remorse. Finishing the bottle in an instant, he raised it out for a celebratory cheer, which the Engineer gladly returned with a tap of his own beer, the two of them chugging the beer for quite a while.

Sometime later, about say, a few hours, Demoman and the Engineer buddy he had just met were already past the line of drunk. The two of them were practically standing on their heads, wobbling around randomly. Actually, that would be an overstatement, Engineer sat down in his chair passed out, while Demoman did most of the head walking.

"Ooogh. Think I had a tad too much tah drink there…" Demoman complained, holding his head.

Just then, a rather irritated voice called from the buildings.

"You failed. The enemy has captured our intelligence." It told them.

Demoman's solitary eye shot open, and he turned backwards. Apparently, there lay a barren spot where a briefcase might've laid. This time, it was empty. Demoman shrugged, chugging another bottle of beer.

"Eh." He nonchalantly reacted.

Demoman was then shot in the face by an enemy Sniper.

* * *

So, I hope you all learned a valuable lesson today. Don't drink and fight. This educational message brought to you by Mann Co.

...Ah, who am I kidding, keep on drinking Demos, there's no stopping ya.

* * *

AN: Well goodness gracious, this story hasn't been updated in quite a while, has it? Apologies, people who might still be reading. I don't have much else to say here, so sorry again, this is ThePizzaLovingTurtle, off to go and play using my new Community Market cosmetics. Aufwiederschen.


End file.
